The Flash vs various weirdos
by SassyMoose
Summary: Barry Allen faces many weirdos in a days work. All part of being the Flash.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean yelled from across the room of the highly haunted White House. Yes, THE White House. Aka where the President lives. And least, that was what they thought when the Winchesters' took up this job after a tip from a guy online.

Sam started to stir out of his slumber. Okay, he hadn't been taking a nap. He'd just been strangled for the millionth time and Dean had arrived just before he was killed, also for the millionth time. Dean had grabbed the son-of-a-bitch ghost and yanked him away in time for the President to hear the ruckus from right outside his bedroom. He burst out the door, fully clothed in a white (naturally) silk bath robe, with a little decal on the chest that said, "I'm the Queen". Dean pretended not to notice the ridiculous apparel and yelled, "Mr President, grab that fire poker!" Dean was still struggling with the ghost, two and fro, knocking over every priceless antique that laid around the living room. He stumbled after the ghost landed him one nasty punch to the face, and he landed right on top of a beautiful and disturbingly comfortable pink sofa. He struggled to pull himself upright, and not give in to the unholy lure of taking a nap right there. He needed to be awake, to protect Sammy. Sam, finally realizing where he was, jumped up off the rubble he was lying on and got ready to go mono-o-mono on that ghost's evil ass. The president, still confused, had managed to find what Dean told him to get and threw it at Dean, not thinking about the sofa's comfy powers and Dean's unability to react while laying on it, and the fire poker landed right on Dean's head sideways, knocking him out for the count.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted as he looked upon his fallen brother. Now this was personal. Sam, moving quickly like a ferret on roller-skates, snatched up the fire poker and swung it at the ghost repeatedly, vengefully, sexily(wait no), and finally got a hit on that bastard ghost. Sam, still acting quick, grabbed the salt shaker from atop the tiny dining table on the left of the room, and shook it with all his might.

"Oh, you shake it baby," Dean mumbled mockingly suddenly as he woke up. Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the matchbox and lit it while the ghost was still distracted, shrieking in pain. He tossed it into the fire place where the ghosts' beloved tie, that he wore as a past President when he was living, laid among some wood. Dean had managed to get up in time for the finishing touches- salt. Except, Sam had used it all in his vengeance dance earlier. "We need salt, dammit!" Dean yelled angrily, pacing around the room for any salt he could use. "SON-OF-A-BITCH!" he proclaimed with passion. Sam was also doing the same as his brother, searching fervently for salt. He silently and verbally cursed himself for using all the salt. "I'm sorry, Dean, I got caught up in the moment!" he told his brother. As they looked, Sam saw the President huddled in the corner, nervously eating a bag of chips. Flavor? Salt and Vinegar. "That's it!" Sam proclaimed and ran towards the president. Suddenly the ghost knocked into Sam, choking him once again and slamming him against the nearest wall. Sam gasped for breath as Dean ran towards him. "SAMMY!"

Sam started to black out but before he did he managed to choke out,"Dean, the chips!" Dean stopped in his tracks and glanced around till he saw the chips the president was eating. He realized why Sam said what he said. The chips were full of salt and maybe it wasn't ideal for a salt-N-burn ghost gank, but it would do. He lunged towards the president and snatched the chips from his shaking hands. "Hey!" the startled president cried out. Dean ignored him and began pouring the salty goodness into the fire along with the ghost's possession. The ghost shrieked again and this time it was the last. It turned into ash speedily and before they knew it, it was gone. Sam slumped to the floor, finally able to breathe again. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to again.

Dean sighed in relief, "Thank God that son-of-a-bitch is dead." Sam nodded in agreement as he pulled himself up and shook off the ghost ashes off his favorite plaid shirt that sat atop his other two favorite plaid shirts. "Man, I got ectoplasm on me. Dean, we gotta stop by a laundromat on the way back to the hotel."

Dean rolled his eyes as he collected all their things that lay sprawled all over the room. "Your WELCOME," he replied to Sammy's fervent plea.

After a few minutes they had everything packed up again and were ready to go back to the hotel. "See ya later, Pres," Dean nodded to the president, who was still huddled in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. "I would say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but uh, it wasn't. So, bye." Dean awkwardly shuffled out of the door into the bright sunshine. Sam followed suit as he nodded and quickly smiled at the strange man who he still couldn't believe was the president of the United States.

"Well, could you at least pick up some more chips?" The president asked feebly as the door closed behind them.

***********************NEXT ADVENTURE!*********************************************************************************************

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?!" Dean snapped as he entered the dingy hotel, in time to see Sam huddled in a corner holding bag of liquid that looked very suspicious. Looked red. Blood colored. It dripped all over Sam's shirt and face as he sloppily drank it. Dean quickly slammed the door shut and walked towards his brother. Sam glanced up like a deer in the headlights at Dean, who wore a betrayed look on his face. "Are you insane?!" Dean snatched the bag of red liquid out of Sam's shaking hands. "Demon blood again? Are you serious?"

"Dean, it's not what you think-" Sam started to say. Dean cut in. "It's not what I think, huh? What is it then? Cuz I'm pretty sure this isn't fruit punch."

Dean was angrier then he'd been in a long time. "So you're telling me you're NOT drinking demon blood again. That you're NOT falling off the wagon AGAIN. How many times do you have to do this before your learn that it's poison, Sam!"

"But Dean-" Sam started again, looking like a kicked puppy.

Dean gave him a heartbroken look, emotions swimming through his head like a fish bowl with too many fish. "Sammy, why do you do this to yourself?" He choked out, one single tear dripping down his chiseled face.

Sam took a deep breath and stood up, wiping the red liquid from his mouth. "It's NOT blood, Dean. I'm telling you the truth. Just take a sip and see for yourself."

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now, or just high from all the demon blood?"

Sam grabbed the bag out of Dean's hands. "Fine. Then just LOOK at the label."

Dean choked out another bitter laugh and finally looked at the bag itself. He took it from Sam and looked it over. He couldn't believe what he saw on the back.

 _Happy Hiddleston's Fruit Punch - Warning: Extra, extra sugar -_

Dean almost died of relief right then and there. He handed the bag to Sam, who was apparently not high from demon blood but a sugar craze. Dean almost said something before he broke down and the tears came falling down. "Dean, I'm sorry. It's just too delicious," Sam explained, starting to feel the pricks of tears at his eyes. He stopped down to pick his brother off the ground. "Sammy, I'm so sorry I doubted you," Dean sobbed. Sam gave a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay. It wasn't a far off guess."

Dean started crying harder and ran to the bathroom, snot and tears practically streaming like a river down his face and on the floor as he ran. Sam could hear the sounds of Dean fervently blowing his nose for about five minutes before he came back. Dean stood in the middle of the main room and gathered his manliness again. He cleared his throat. "Man, I must of had something in my eyes."

"Yeah, me too," Sam replied, clearing his throat as well and pretending like nothing happened.

Dean paused and then said, "Well, we better get packed if we want to gank that demon bitch." *******************NEXT ADVENTURE****************************************

"Hey, Dean. We got a new case in Florida," Sam said right as Dean sleepily walked into the room. Dean grimaced. "Ugh.. What is it this time?"

Sam shifted in his chair and studied the laptop closer. "Its, uh, seems to be a werewolf," he explained. "Why so grouchy anyway?"

Dean rolled his eyes as I grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. "You know why. Florida always has the weirdest cases. Remember last time?"

It took a moment for Sam to remember. "Oh, yeah. That. Well, lets hope that doesnt happen again," Sam said, with a sudden urge to throw up.

"Maybe we should call Cas just in case," Sam added. Dean nodded in agreement. "Right. So,


End file.
